


Nothing I'd Rather, Nowhere I'd Rather

by Krystalicekitsu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Confessions, Food, M/M, Realization, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-08
Updated: 2010-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel makes pancakes and Sam takes a hint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing I'd Rather, Nowhere I'd Rather

**Author's Note:**

> for [](http://spn-gabriel-sam.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_gabriel_sam**](http://spn-gabriel-sam.livejournal.com/)'s [fic battle](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gabriel_sam/tag/comm%3A%20fic%20battle) for the second prompt- [schmoop](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gabriel_sam/107364.html) and Meatloaf's [I would do anything for love](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hchsGFGd24E). **_GREAT_** love goes to [](http://annundriel.livejournal.com/profile)[**annundriel**](http://annundriel.livejournal.com/) for talking me through my shaky muse and getting me to put down something _concrete_. Also, I'm extremely happy with this. I went into it going /O_O\ and came out in second place ( _barely_ \- /eyes [](http://rosivan.livejournal.com/profile)[**rosivan**](http://rosivan.livejournal.com/)/)! So, definite 'yay' there.

"Gabriel- No, really you don't-," Sam tries to protest but Gabriel's having none of it.

"Shut up and eat your pancakes, Winchester." A plate is shoved in front of him, the edges wobbling from the slide down the table. The mound is huge, a great big stack of golden, battery goodness covered in sliced strawberries, powdered sugar and, in a display of great restraint, _maple_ syrup. It looks decadent.

And stroke-inducing.

"Gabriel-," he's cut off with a very forceful kiss. He pulls away and leans back when Gabriel backs off, one powder-covered hand surely leaving fingerprints where it's brushing over his cheek. There's-

Hm. That's damn good pancake. Dirty, sneaky archangel. Kissing and exchanging panca- _really good pancake_.

Swallows- "How- Where the hell did you learn to make pancakes like this?"

Gabriel smiles softly. Kisses him on the nose.

And turns back to the pan of scrambling eggs.

"I taught myself."

Sam thinks about that for a second. And then a second more, because he's sure that there is some sort of logic (twisted and hiding and Tricksterish though it may be) in there to explain it all. But… He can't think of a damn reason for Gabriel to teach himself to _make_ pancakes when-

"Why make them? I mean, you could just-," he snaps for effect, one of his favorite Gabriel-quirks, "- and have a whole castle full of pancakes."

"Or a castle _made_ of pancakes," he adds as an afterthought.

He turns from staring down at the perfectly cut square in his pancake stack (right in the damn middle, where the strawberry had been and he's not quite sure how Gabriel managed to do that and without him seeing anything), glances up and he's just in time to watch Gabriel go flat and still. But that's not a good description.

No, Sam thinks, he doesn't _still_ \- he just stops bothering to move. All the little things that indicate he lives in that body- that says ' _I'm here! This is me!_ ' rather than ' _I'm just renting the suit for the millennium_ '- they all cease. The little shift in weight he does every ten seconds or so stops, mid-gesture and the soft rise and fall of his chest stills and falls silent.

And then Sam has an epiphany.

Because Gabriel didn't make the pancakes for himself. No, he _made_ pancakes for _him_. For _Sam_.

And wow, does Sam feel like an ass.

He stands slowly, chair skittering over the floor. Starts making his way to Gabriel- but one more bite of pancake first. Just one. One bite, yep. Or maybe two. Okay, just three bites and- holy shit these are really good pancakes.

He snatches a strawberry and drags it through a puddle of syrup and powdered sugar on his way around the table. It's perfectly sweet on his tongue but he doesn't swallow it.

No, instead he turns Gabriel around, presses the fruit into his mouth with a kiss, tongue savoring the flavor even as he draws back to kiss both of the archangel's cheeks.

"The pancakes are perfect," he nuzzles in behind Gabriel's ear, "I _love_ that you made me breakfast."

The sharp exhalation is just a side effect when you're being bear-hugged by an archangel. He smiles into his boyfriend's neck and wraps both arms around him.

"I have no idea what I did to deserve you," it's muffled into his cotton sleep shirt, but Sam melts at the amazed, tender love pouring from the words.

"Back at you, Gabe," he squeezes tighter, curling over Gabriel, "I…"

"I love you," he whispers and presses a kiss to just bellow Gabriel's ear.

There's a weighty pause interrupted by a contented sigh before Gabriel hugs him tighter, face nuzzling against his chest. And Gabriel doesn't say it, but then he doesn't have to say it. Because Sam knows. Because Gabriel whispered it as he gave Dean back after that Wednesday of hell and then shouted it as he died facing Lucifer. Screamed it from every mountain on earth as he raced through Hell to drag Sam from the cage.

The four months after, agreeing to hide Sam from his brother and putting up with Sam struggling to deal with hell- he'd all but written it in the clouds. And, finally, not running when Sam found out what the raised handprint on his hip _really_ meant… There's not a clearer declaration of love known to man or angel.

He knows; he's checked.

Sam yelps at the sudden warm-gooey feeling dragging across his cheek. Gabriel’s eyes are warm and happy, a sharp contrast to the devious smirk quirking his lips up when he glances down accusingly.

“Go eat your pancakes, you giant girl, or I’ll add _sausage_ to your eggs,” Gabriel threatens before turning him around and smacking his ass. He feels Gabriel’s hand sticking to his pants and looks back in horror. Oh, yeah, he did it.

Gabriel’s syrup-covered hand now has fluffy pieces of Sam’s pants all over it. The archangel waves all his sticky fingers playfully.

Oh, it’s so on. Sam grabs a handful of strawberries and takes aim.

Because Gabriel's not the only one hopelessly in love. _Lost_ in love- but it's alright because they're lost together and Sam's never minded going off the beaten path before. So Sam will deal with the inevitable bitchyness from Dean and the syrup in his hair and the powdered sugar up his nose (ow, by the way) because his angel _cooked_ for him. Put time and effort into doing something in a way doubly fundamentally against what he was.

When Dean and Castiel make it back from their ‘research trip’, they’re greeted by one hunter and his angel running through the house, laughing and screeching about the fairness (or lack thereof) of using angel-mojo in a food fight. Dean sighs and grouses about a security deposit, dumping his pack and shucking his jacket even as he dodges sausage pieces. Castiel just smiles when a stray bit of pancake bounces off his forehead and lands in his collar.

At least the pancakes are still good.


End file.
